


baby one two three to me

by mochimochi



Series: spreading in violet [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Time Skip, again mentions of alcohol but its also very brief, bokuto's sisters are there bc how could i not include them after they were revealed, implied iwaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochimochi/pseuds/mochimochi
Summary: Akaashi knows he's in love with him. He has been for years, undeniably, but lately he feels the affection bloom across his chest and curl down into his stomach, deep into his being. He wants more than anything to tell him, to speak into existence all the intensity that burns within him whenever they're together. He owes him that much, at the very least.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: spreading in violet [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040421
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	baby one two three to me

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'i feel love' by yukika once again bc she is my muse
> 
> this is meant to be a continuation of [can't take my eyes off you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296089) but it can also be read on its own
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Akaashi starts thinking about how to put his feelings for Bokuto into words one night, two months after they've moved in together. It was a late day at work, and he messaged Bokuto during the commute after the train announced a delay, letting him know when he’d be home. It's cold, the first signs of winter sinking deep into his skin. The biting wind paints his nose pink as he unlocks the front door with numb fingers. Inside, the coziness of the apartment is so soothing he sinks against the wall in the hallway for a minute, his bag and shoes still on, letting the day wither away and crawl out under the doorstep.

"Akaashi? You home?"

Bokuto is standing there, suddenly, and Akaashi tiredly studies the soft material of his sweater, a childish part of his brain making grabby hands, wanting to bury into the warmth of his embrace. Bokuto helps him shrug off his coat, a firm hand pressing gently on his shoulders in a way that makes him sigh.

"Go change, I'll warm up dinner." He's tempted to protest, since Bokuto and kitchen appliances isn’t the happiest of marriages, but the exhaustion deep in his bones wins out, carrying him to the bedroom. When he returns he’s greeted with a saccharine smell, Bokuto standing by the stove scooping something from a takeout container into two bowls. Akaashi pauses, taking in the state of the kitchen around them.

"You cleaned?"

"Hmm?" Bokuto turns, two steaming bowls in hand, and hands one to Akaashi. "Oh, yeah. It was kinda messy and you’re usually the one that tidies up while I’m busy with extra practices and stuff. I felt kinda bad so when you told me you were running late I figured I could spend that time cleaning a bit. I know how mess stresses you out, so I cleaned your desk, too."

Akaashi must have some sort of tense expression on his face, because Bokuto flusters, gesturing with his free hand. "Don’t worry, I didn’t touch anything important! I promise! You’ve just been so busy with your new project lately, so I wanted to help somehow."

The hot bowl in Akaashi’s hands is starting to burn his fingers, but he stands speechless, overwhelmed by a feeling of gratitude so strong it takes him two tries to clear his throat before speaking.

"Thank you. That was very nice of you," and to prove his point he steps closer, leaning up to press cold lips against Bokuto’s cheek. Maybe if he wasn’t so exhausted the tender action would embarrass him in immediate retrospect, but he feels numb, flooded by unnamed feelings. He rests there, against the warmth of Bokuto’s shoulder, feeling more than hearing a soft laugh against his hair.

"No problem, 'Kashi." He feels a tug on the back of his sweatshirt. "Let's go eat before you fall asleep standing up."

They sit in front of the TV, neither really watching but leaving it on as background noise. Bokuto asks about his day and Akaashi speaks, the frustration slowly trickling off with the sweet taste of the food, the pleasant hum of the muffled voices from the sports news, and Bokuto’s socked foot moving rhythmically against his calf. The past two months he’s found it shockingly easy to simply speak, to talk about anything from the mundane to the spectacular, and exchange details of his existence with a cheerful looking Bokuto, who listens with rapt attention, as if Akaashi’s office job was exciting and adventurous.

"You should sleep in this weekend. And I mean actually sleep in, not wake up when I go for a run at six, go back to sleep, and then get up at eight. I mean sleep until, like, noon."

"I've never done that," Akaashi says, pensive. Bokuto laughs.

"I know, you're like the hardest working person I know, that's why I'm suggesting it. It won't kill you, you know. You technically can't make up on lost sleep but you should still rest if you have the chance."

He's quiet for a beat, which Bokuto must interpret as hesitation because he speaks again, insisting, "C'mon, I'll even have breakfast ready for you. Or, actually, I'll pick up breakfast on the way back from my run so you can _actually_ rest without worrying about me making a mess in the kitchen."

Akaashi muffles a yawn, thinking about four hours wasted on sleep. Bokuto would insist they're not a waste if he's taking care of himself, and while he technically agrees deep down, his responsibilities sit in the back of his mind at all times, tapping in periodically to remind him how he's putting them off. Still, the way he's feeling right now, it sounds like a decent idea, so he says, "Alright."

Bokuto beams, collecting the bowls from the coffee table and standing, passing a gentle hand through Akaashi's hair. "Okay, go to bed now. You look like you're about to keel over. I'll just put this in the sink and I'll be there in a minute."

Akaashi barely stands before he feels a firm hand practically shoving him in the direction of the bedroom, but he has no energy left to complain about being manhandled. He takes off his glasses and sets them on the nightstand, curling his body underneath the covers to collect heat. His eyes are closed and his thoughts are jumbled when he registers the light turning off, an added warmth slipping in behind him. A soft warmth grazes his nape, fleeting, and the last wild, alarming thought that pops into his head before he succumbs to sleep is the realization that he is undeniably filled to the brim with love for Bokuto.

__________________

Living together is surprisingly simple. Akaashi rationalizes that it's probably a culmination of all the time they spent together in high school, and even more afterward. He knows all of Bokuto's quirks, habits, and oddities, and Bokuto, to Akaashi's occasional horror, knows his. Still, the time they actually spend sharing the same space and sleeping in the same bed decreases exponentially during the most active V-League seasons. The Jackals' hometown is Osaka, after all, and although Akaashi has visited Bokuto’s apartment there enough times for some of his less vital belongings to migrate permanently, it's not a trip either of them can afford to take, not with constant practices and editing deadlines that leave little time to make the nearly three hour journey.

Akaashi sits alone in Bokuto's apartment sometimes, wearing a pair of Bokuto’s sweatpants when his are in the wash. Technically it's his apartment now, too, his name is on the lease, officially. _Their_ apartment, actually, the plurality which his mind still struggles to comprehend. He sits on the couch instead of his desk not because he feels lonely in the quiet of the bedroom, but because he likes the ambient noise of the city outside, and thinks about Bokuto in his other apartment, cooking dinner for himself, getting up every day before dawn, probably annoying the hell out of Miya Atsumu, his neighbor two doors down. Akaashi almost chuckles at the thought, but it feels silly in the empty space of the living room, so he holds it in.

Bokuto calls him two days later, a Thursday during his lunch break, to announce he's going into Tokyo for the weekend.

"To stay with you!" he says. Akaashi tries not to perk too visibly at the thought, not in public, instead offering the pixelated image of Bokuto on his phone what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

It's both completely unexpected and yet not at all when he hears a knock on the door late Friday afternoon. He knows it's not Bokuto from that alone. Bokuto has a key, obviously, and even if he misplaced it somehow, he's not due to arrive for at least another hour. He has a nagging feeling of who might be on the other side, so he takes a steadying breath before opening the door.

The tell-tale cheshire cat grin and pressed vest that greet him are as characteristic as ever, he thinks, leaning on the door. Still, he should probably at least pretend to be surprised.

"Oh. Kuroo-san," he says, and if it comes out sounding a little flat, it doesn't seem to affect Kuroo’s relaxed composure in the slightest.

"Akaashi," he responds, voice dripping with the characteristic lilt that used to make Akaashi squirm when they first met. They've both changed since then, anyhow, so Akaashi moves aside to let him in and watches Kuroo take his shoes off by the doorway. He stands upright, holding up a grocery bag with one hand and loosening his tie with the other.

"I brought nihonshu," he explains with a smile, walking past Akaashi into the kitchen. Years ago, Akaashi might've rolled his eyes, but now he simply follows, maneuvering around him to pull glasses out of the cupboard.

"For who?" he asks, watching Kuroo pull the bottle from the bag along with some snack packages.

"For Bo, mostly. He texted me yesterday saying he'd be here for the weekend. You can have a drink too, of course, Akaashi-kun." He tilts his head to the side teasingly as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to unscrew the bottle. Akaashi briefly wonders if he irons his own clothes, impressed. "Unless you're too busy."

"I'm not as uptight as you think I am, Kuroo-san."

Kuroo laughs, wiping his hand off on his perfectly pressed pants. "I didn't say uptight, I said busy. You're a working professional, so." Akaashi observes as he pours some for him first, not bothering to wait for an affirmative, then for himself, filling both glasses to the brim.

"So are you," he says, taking the glass from Kuroo's outstretched hand.

"It's Friday night," Kuroo smiles, shrugging. "We probably need this more than he does, to be honest. Cheers!" Akaashi examines the way he tilts his head back to drink, smacking his lips as he sets down the glass. He follows suit, much more reserved.

They're still standing in the kitchen when Bokuto arrives, a flurry of limbs, setting down his bag in the hallway loud enough to startle them both. He turns the corner, stilling for a fraction of a second before his face erupts into a smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. It makes Akaashi's stomach drop, no matter how many times he's seen it.

"Kuroo! 'Kashi!" Akaashi watches the pair in front of him embrace gruffly before Bokuto approaches him, arms open. He shrinks into himself as a smacking, loud kiss is planted just below his hairline. Bokuto beams. "My two favorite people in the world."

Kuroo fills a glass for him, sliding it across the counter. He refills Akaashi's glass, too, and Akaashi hesitates momentarily, watching Bokuto down the drink, eyes catching the way his Adam's apple bobs around it. He copies the action, despite the aching reminder in the back of his head that he's already had multiple.

"Let's go sit somewhere, my back is killing me. Bring the snacks, one of you." Kuroo heads off into the living room, bottle of nihonshu in hand. Akaashi stalls to wipe crumbs off the counter, and Bokuto stays with him.

Before Akaashi can ask, Bokuto taps him on the cheek and says, "You're blushing, 'Kashi. You look really pretty," and then follows Kuroo without glancing back, leaving him standing in the kitchen, face warm.

Akaashi is surprised, hours later, when he notices how much time has passed. It's nearing one in the morning, and Kuroo is listening, chin in hand, as Bokuto tells a story Akaashi has heard at least three separate times. His hair is wilting, as is Bokuto's, and Akaashi finds it amusing. He must be more inebriated and loose-lipped than he anticipated, because only when Bokuto glances at him does he realize he actually laughed out loud at the sight. He must've assumed he was laughing at his story. This time, though, Akaashi is not alone in the living room feeling cold, so it at least feels much more appropriate. The alcohol paired with Bokuto's arm slung loosely around his shoulder makes him feel warm, content. The lack of the usual barrage of thoughts in his head is a pleasant bonus he can allow, just for a little while. Kuroo stretches after a moment, moving to stand up.

"You can't take a train like this, you'll end up lost somewhere," Bokuto complains, watching Kuroo grab onto a lamp to steady himself. "Just stay over, the couch is comfy enough. Right 'Kashi?"

Akaashi shifts to stand, propping himself up with a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder. "I'll go get some blankets."

He hears distant bickering as he collects a thick pile, hopefully enough to suppress the chill that runs through the living room at night. He ponders briefly how all 188 centimeters of Kuroo Tetsurou are going to fit on the couch.

"This feels like my parents tucking me into bed," Kuroo comments, having changed into a set of Bokuto's pajamas, looking up at Bokuto and Akaashi from beneath the layer of blankets. His long legs are folded into his chest to adjust for length, but he seems comfortable enough, Akaashi thinks. "Do I get a kiss goodnight?"

Bokuto bends theatrically to smack a wet one to the crown of Kuroo's head, the two of them giggling in their stupor. Pulling the covers under his chin, he raises his eyebrows at Akaashi, who crosses his arms over his chest dismissively.

"Good luck getting one out of him," Bokuto quips, moving to turn off the lamp. Kuroo laughs in return, shifting to bury into the couch cushions before saying goodnight, tufts of black hair poking out from beneath the covers.

Akaashi feels Bokuto's hand wrap loosely around his wrist as they walk to the bedroom. They change in silence, Akaashi struggling to refocus his vision after he accidentally lays down too quickly. Bokuto joins him, an elbow on his pillow propping him upright, and for a second they only stare at each other, muted streetlights filtering in through the window. Akaashi's eyes follow the soft pink glow as it dips past Bokuto's neck and down to his bare shoulder.

"Like what you see?" Bokuto asks, smirking. Any other time Akaashi would have ignored him, but the subdued electricity, product of the nihonshu, thrumming under his skin makes him reach out to run his thumb down Bokuto's cheek, resting it on the corner of his mouth. Bokuto's breath catches at the action, but he smiles softly at Akaashi's uncharacteristic bravery.

"You definitely had more to drink than I did," he comments. "Did I already tell you how pretty you look? The liquor makes you blush. You look like a peach."

Akaashi groans, "That's embarrassing."

Bokuto laughs, the sound making Akaashi's body react almost instantly, before his hushed thoughts hold him back. He moves closer, chasing his warmth.

"It's always good to see you and Kuroo getting along after you gave him such a hard time in high school."

Akaashi makes a noise of complaint, the thumb circling around Bokuto's cheek halting mid-caress. "I never gave him a hard time. He was just irritating."

"He was trying to be your friend! For my sake, probably, but also because he's genuinely a nice guy."

"I know that now, but he made me nervous. He always looks like he's plotting something." Akaashi closes his eyes for a second, the picture of a sneering Kuroo dressed in all red on the other side of the volleyball net flashing in his head. "He was intimidating."

"Says you," Bokuto replies, and laughs again when Akaashi huffs. He can't help the way he acted in high school. As the youngest in the Fukurōdani lineup when Bokuto was around, his brain often went into overdrive trying to prove to the team, and himself, that he deserved to play as starting setter. Kuroo's eccentricities at games and training camps were an additional pain he had to grapple with.

They lie in silence for a minute, Akaashi's thumb moving seemingly on its own, resuming the ministrations along Bokuto's face. He looks up to meet his gaze and finds a curious, probing look.

"What are you thinking about, 'Kashi?" he hears him ask. Akaashi blinks owlishly, processing the memories that pass in sequence through his brain before replying.

"I had a really big crush on you in high school," he says, observing as Bokuto's eyes widen. He should redden down to the bone from the admission, but he doesn't. Not that he _could_ blush any more, according to Bokuto, who places a calloused hand over Akaashi's cheek, mirroring him, cupping his face gently.

"You should've told me. I would've kissed you."

Akaashi hums, moving closer. "Scary."

"I'm scary?" Their noses touch.

"No. Confessing," Akaashi clarifies, voice lowered in the minimal distance between them. Bokuto breathes out a laugh through his nose, hand moving to the back of Akaashi's neck, settling there, firm. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks.

"Well, at least I can do it now," he says, and Akaashi barely has time to inhale before soft lips brush against his own, sending his already dazed brain into a cloudy spiral. When they pull apart he thinks about how he's probably loved Bokuto since high school, and before his eyes shut, the fleeting thought passes through his mind that he should tell him soon.

__________________

The end of November brings the end of the V-League season, and an official bus for _Japan Men's National Volleyball Team_ drives the group of Jackals participating in the upcoming Olympics from Osaka to Tokyo for an official meeting. Bokuto can only spend the afternoon after the meeting with Akaashi, since he has to travel again for the last game of the season the following day, against the Sendai Frogs in their home turf.

He texts Akaashi the address of the building where the meeting is being held, insisting he wait for him nearby so they can eat together afterward. It's close to Akaashi’s office, and avoiding the 5:00pm commute is always a welcome idea, so he accepts. He's leaving a nearby coffeeshop he'd visited to pass the time when he spots a semi-familiar figure leaning against the building Bokuto is due to come out of soon enough.

He recognizes him from both Bokuto and Kuroo's stories, and possibly also Hinata's, who's known him for longer. Aoba Johsai's former ace is shorter than him, but his heavy build and confident posture make Akaashi feel smaller. The bulky padding of his blue winter jacket doesn't help. Akaashi reads _Athletic Trainer_ embroidered on the front, right below his name and the Japanese flag. They make eye contact, regarding each other with an air of distant, yet mutual understanding.

"Oh. Akaashi, right?" Iwaizumi asks, and his grip when they shake hands is just as steady as Akaashi expects it to be. "I've heard a lot about you. From Bokuto." As if there was need for clarification.

Akaashi suppresses a sigh and apologizes, "I'm sorry about that." Iwaizumi laughs, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets.

"It's alright. It's always good things, anyway." Akaashi analyzes his tone, searching for a hint of judgement, but he finds none. He relaxes slightly, wondering in subdued alarm what it must be like to deal with the pack of monsters inside that meeting room as a career.

"He must be a handful," he comments, because, truly, he can only account for what he's personally experienced. He's observed Hinata and Kageyama enough to know how they operate, and despite all their mannerisms and intensity, they're open, receptive. Bokuto is too, he knows, but he also knows how quickly he can overwhelm his teammates. He means well, Akaashi is sure, but not everyone notices right away. Iwaizumi shrugs, smiling.

"Nah, he's great. I guess you would know better than anyone. They're all a handful, but I've dealt with much worse, believe me." Akaashi examines the soft curve of his smile and wishes he knew more. Oikawa-san is rumored to be...special, but Akaashi isn't one to believe rumors. They never got the chance to meet Seijouh at nationals, and curiosity gets the better of him, so he asks.

"What is it like, Iwaizumi-san? Training them to defeat a former teammate."

Iwaizumi blinks, caught off guard. Akaashi is aware of Oikawa Tooru's career path, including his charismatic presence in Argentina's national team, which _always_ makes the Olympics. He expects they were close enough, possibly even friends, working together as setter and ace. He doesn't expect the devilish grin that stretches across Iwaizumi’s face, however.

"I would love nothing more than to finally beat that brat at something, knock his ego down a peg. And with this team, it just might happen." He looks proud, glancing sideways at Akaashi before shifting his gaze down to his feet. "Oikawa is a force to be reckoned with, though, so it won't exactly be easy. I've been with him long enough to know."

Akaashi doesn't miss the inflection in his voice, but his thought process is interrupted by the glass door behind them swinging open. A huddle of bodies begins to filter out, a characteristic white head poking through somewhere in the middle. They disperse across the sidewalk and Bokuto spots him, bounding over and slowing down when he notices Iwaizumi standing next to him.

"Oh, cool, you two met! Didya wait long, Akaashi?"

He shakes his head, deliberately ignoring the knowing look he can feel Iwaizumi giving them. He also ignores the curious glances from Hoshiumi and Ushijima who are standing next to Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi, members of the Jackals who are familiar enough with Akaashi to simply pay him no attention.

To his complete dismay, the attention is on them now, and he waves politely at Kageyama and Hinata as they bow at him from a distance. Yaku sends him a smile and says, "Doing okay, Akaashi?" to which he shrugs. He grimaces internally, fighting the urge to drag Bokuto away by the sleeve and disappear down the block. He sends him a pointed look, instead, which seems to do the trick.

"Okay, let's go," Bokuto says, and Akaashi is immensely thankful that he doesn't grab his hand or latch onto him in any way. At least not yet, not in front of everyone. Akaashi waves at Iwaizumi as Bokuto calls out, "I'll be back on time, don't worry Tsum-Tsum!" before walking away. Miya Atsumu ignores him.

When they've distanced themselves enough, Akaashi steps sideways to walk closer to him. Bokuto, in a purposefully subtle way that makes Akaashi's heart twinge, laces their hands together and tucks them into his coat pocket.

"So you talked to Iwaizumi?" Bokuto asks. Akaashi hums, and he continues, "I always figured you two would get along."

"He knew my name before I told him. He said you mention me a lot." Bokuto has the decency to add some sheepishness to his smile, shoulders lifting.

"Guilty as charged." Akaashi says nothing for a pause, instead recalling the rest of their interaction.

"Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa-san are together," he says, mostly expecting confirmation. Bokuto makes a sound of surprise, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"As in dating?" Akaashi nods. "Who knows? Actually, Hinata probably does, I'll ask him for you."

When Akaashi looks down, satisfied, Bokuto bumps their shoulders together.

"You're probably dying to know, aren't you? You love gossip."

"I do not," Akaashi lies, making Bokuto laugh. The sound of his laugh gets him thinking again.

If Bokuto had moved across the world to play volleyball, everything would be different for him. Akaashi would be on the train home right now, probably staying up well into the early morning to catch up on work. Coming home to an empty apartment, fading into anonymity among the rest of his former teammates and acquaintances. He feels a pang of guilt for ever entertaining the feeling of loneliness that fills the apartment, despite Bokuto being just a train ride away. He can't imagine what is must be like for Iwaizumi and Oikawa. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, sure, but he doesn't know if he'd be able to do it. He squeezes Bokuto’s hand, feeling more than a bit content at having him by his side. Bokuto squeezes back.

By the time it's late enough that Bokuto has to meet with Sakusa and Miya Atsumu for the drive to Sendai, Akaashi finishes fully processing it. For the first time in complete consciousness, not muddled by sleep or alcohol, but after simply spending an ordinary afternoon together, Akaashi is hit with a wave of affection so strong that it staggers him. He breathes deep into Bokuto’s shoulder, strong arms unlatching as they reluctantly pull away from their goodbye hug.

"I'll say hi to Tsukki for you!" Bokuto yells before running off, breath leaving puffs in the frigid air. Akaashi can only burrow into his scarf and count every step he takes as he walks home, trying not to feel completely overwhelmed.

__________________

Akaashi met Bokuto's sisters his first year of high school. It was a Friday after practice, and he followed Bokuto home after the third years kicked them out of the gym, begging them to _please_ take a break. Bokuto insisted they practice together just a little longer so Akaashi called his mother, letting her know he'd be home late.

The Bokuto household dynamic was very different from his own family's. Akaashi, growing up an only child, could only observe with guarded interest as the two older girls teased and poked at a whining Bokuto. He registered, over many other visits through the years, how they doted on him, too, and showered him with praises and gifts as much as they did with snide comments and jokes. He sees a lot of their vivacious personality in Bokuto himself, in his warm attitude and expressive countenance. They raised him just as much as his parents did, if not more.

He sometimes finds himself caught in the midst of the affection for their younger brother. By the time Bokuto was playing for the Jackals Akaashi was accustomed to it, mostly. The middle sister owned a car, and happily helped him when they decided to move in together, tussling Akaashi’s hair when he bowed at her in gratitude. Because of that experience she now knew where they lived, so Akaashi wasn't all too surprised to find her car parked on the curb and then to spot her standing on their doorstep when he arrives from work one afternoon.

"Bokuto-san?" he approaches her carefully. She's holding a very large box, balanced precariously in both arms. A plastic bag is also dangling from the crook of her elbow. When she turns to smile at him, the box wobbles, and he reaches forward to steady it.

"Keiji-kun!" she says, breathless. "Oh, thank you! It's not heavy, just big." She crosses her arms over her chest after he takes it from her, pressing her lips together. Her cropped hair is styled in a swoop, highlighting her bright eyes. The three of them have a striking resemblance. "And I've told you a thousand times, call me Asagi."

Akaashi complies, mostly because he's in a delicate situation, the box in his hands big enough for him to have to tilt his chin back to meet her eyes. "Sorry, Asagi-san. Could you please help me unlock the door? The key is in the side pocket of my bag."

She rushes to help him, holding the door open as he walks inside. He stares, waiting, after dropping the box by the coatrack, moving aside to let her in.

"Oh, it's okay! I just came by to drop that off. Oh, this too!" She untangles the plastic bag from her arm, handing it to Akaashi who peers inside. "It's dinner for you. I stopped by to pick something up for myself and figured I would get an extra portion since I was headed this way."

Akaashi bends slightly, bowing in thanks. Asagi waves her hands, golden jewelry tinkling, grabbing his shoulder to push him upright.

"Geez, you're so formal even after all this time," she laughs, shaking her head. "It's nothing, really. The box has Kou's Christmas present, by the way. Yours too, obviously."

"Oh, you didn't have to." He feels suddenly embarrassed by the size of the box, hopes that whatever is so large inside is mostly for Bokuto.

"Of course I did, don't be silly." She rolls her eyes at him, good-naturedly, he knows. "I know it's only the first week of December but I'm flying out next Tuesday to spend the holidays with Tsukushi, so I had to do this today. Your timing was perfect, too. I only stood out here for, like, two minutes."

Bokuto Tsukushi, the eldest of the three siblings, works overseas. Bokuto had talked about going to visit her one day, after the Olympics.

"I hope you're taking care of yourself, Keiji," Asagi remarks, pinching at his side. "Eating well, sleeping well. All that."

"I am," he says, feeling under heavier scrutiny, somehow, than when his own mother asks him the same questions. Asagi laughs, watching him fidget.

"You better be. I know you're good at taking care of Kou, but you take it easy too, okay?" She regards him once more, leaning her weight against the doorframe. "He's always talking about how responsible you are, along with every other amazing thing about you. I believe him, sure, but if I catch you slacking you won't be able to stop me from coming over to feed you." She points a manicured finger at him. "Especially when Kou is in Osaka.

Akaashi feels himself flush, swinging the plastic bag in his hand. "That won't be necessary, Asagi-san."

"Well, I'm watching you, either way." She wraps her plush yellow scarf tighter around her neck, flicking the end over one shoulder and stepping back. "I'll tell Kou to report back to me. Not that I really need to, he always has something to say about the love of his life. See ya, Keiji!"

Akaashi watches her go, high heels clacking, the bag of food warm where it rests against his thigh. He closes the door and sags against it, wondering, if he had any siblings, how they would react to Bokuto. He often longed for companionship when he was younger, and every now and then he still entertains the idea that having a younger brother or sister would've done him good growing up, but there's no way to be certain. He thinks Asagi and Tsukushi probably feel the same way, based on the way they coddled him since the first time he joined Bokuto for dinner at his house, years ago. Well, there's always his parents. He burns up at the idea of his mother knowing how strongly he feels about Bokuto, although she probably has some vague idea.

Asagi's twinkling voice rings out in his head. _The love of his life_. The idea of Bokuto referring to him that way, out of all people, gives him pause as he's heating up the food, wooden spoon in hand. He's glad Bokuto isn't there to see the quiet smile that he can't contain.

A question sticks somewhere in the back of his mind. _Is Bokuto Koutarou the love of my life?_ He chooses not to acknowledge it, but the answer is obvious.

__________________

Of Akaashi's top five greater fears, which are listed plainly in his mind, a home invasion is not one of them. As blood-chilling as it might be, it doesn't even make the top ten. He's visualized the hypothetical situation ever since he started living alone during university, just in case, and he thinks he knows the proper response to deal with a break-in.

When he hears footsteps outside the door he's suddenly not tired anymore, despite the long hours he's been sitting at his desk, and he holds his breath, listening. The whirring of the computer's fan as it overheats is suddenly too loud. He saves his work and shuts it quietly, just in time to hear the lock turning, agonizingly slow, as if the invader were trying to be as quiet as possible. He glances at his cellphone charging on the nightstand, mind racing, wondering whether to call the police, or Bokuto, or anyone, or simply to stay quiet. His instincts tell him to run, to hide in the bathroom maybe, but as he hears the doorknob jiggle, logic wins out for his survival. He runs to snatch one of Bokuto’s trophies off the shelf, a heavy one that could knock someone out, clutching it in both hands like a baseball bat.

His heart starts hammering when he realizes someone is already inside the apartment, stalling by the doorway. He raises the trophy before turning the corner, brandishing his weapon in a way that he hopes is intimidating enough to make the serial killer, or whoever, run back out the door. He'll strike if it's necessary, but he'd rather not. It's the third instance in a surprisingly short period of time that he's being surprised by someone at the doorstep, but the panic that settles over him upon seeing the wide frame of the intruder is unlike any confusion he felt meeting Kuroo, or Bokuto's sister.

If it weren't for the tingling hesitation that pushes him to flick on the light, he would've lunged at the stranger, aiming for the back of the head. He's lucky to think things through, despite the distress. Akaashi squints at the white haired figure that yelps in surprise. A stream of emotions, including something close to frustration, and very _very_ faint amusement runs over him as he lowers the trophy.

"What," he starts to ask, pausing to catch his breath, "are you doing." It comes out sounding dead and flat in tone, voice nearly catching in his throat from relief.

Bokuto's eyes are wide as saucers, and he points at the trophy still clutched in his hand, eyebrows raised near his hairline. "What is _that_ for?"

"I thought someone was breaking in." Akaashi rubs his temple with his free hand. His heartbeat is incrementally slowing back to normal, but he still feels out of breath. "What were you doing, lurking around in the dark like that?"

"I was trying not to wake you up! It's half past midnight."

"I was working."

Bokuto opens his mouth to protest, probably, but Akaashi cuts him off, pointing the trophy towards Bokuto's chest accusingly. He jumps back as if Akaashi was still trying to hit him with it.

"Hold on, Bokuto-san. What are you even doing here? I thought you wouldn't be back until Monday."

With the end of the V-League season and the beginning of official Olympic training, Bokuto was due to travel to Tokyo for good. Akaashi was supposed to meet him at the train station four days from now at six, not in the entrance of their apartment in the middle of the night, armed with a _Spring Inter-High, Men's Volleyball Nationals 2013: 2nd Place Trophy_ award.

"Omi-kun and Tsum-Tsum are coming on Monday, but I had to make the trip early." He steps closer to Akaashi, still eyeing the trophy wearily but moving past it to cradle his face with one hand, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You think I would just miss your special day?"

Akaashi's brain hiccups, and he gives Bokuto a questioning frown.

"What?"

"It's officially December fifth, dummy."

Akaashi peers into the kitchen, eyes traveling to the digital clock on the microwave. Sure enough, it reads _DEC 5_ , under numbers flashing _12:33 AM_.

Oh. It's his birthday.

"I wanted to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday, but I figured if I called you at midnight you wouldn't really like that. If I waited until you woke up, someone less considerate might call you way earlier and beat me to it. Then I got to really thinking about it, and I realized I wanted to congratulate you in person, and I didn’t want you to spend the day alone, obviously. I asked Meian-san and he said it was fine, so I caught the latest train I could yesterday night so I would get here before you woke up today." He stops for a second, Akaashi feeling exhausted just from hearing that explanation.

"I know what you're gonna say, that I could've just caught an earlier train, but I spent most of the afternoon working on this." He moves back to the doorway to pull a deep metal tray wrapped in foil out of his bag. "Don’t worry, it's not squished, I made sure."

Akaashi peels back the foil to find a square cake, complete with white frosting and chocolate sprinkles.

"Tsum-Tsum and Inu-san helped me with it, kind of. I still did most of the work, though!" Bokuto juts a thumb against his chest, as if worried Akaashi would give his teammates more credit. "Tsum-Tsum won't admit it but I think he's finally starting to warm up to me. If it wasn't for him it would've burned, probably. He's not exactly the best cook himself, but I guess he knows a thing or two from his brother. Although onigiri and cake aren't really that similar when you think ab—"

Akaashi shushes him by calmly setting the cake and trophy down on the floor, standing upright and pulling Bokuto down by his shirt. He presses a bruising kiss to his lips, arms circling his head. Bokuto reciprocates instantly, making a low noise in the back of his throat as the kiss deepens, fingers tangling in Akaashi's hair. His other hand roams down to his waist, dipping under Akaashi's t-shirt. He flinches, drawing back in surprise.

"Your hands are really cold." It hits him again that Bokuto just spent the last three hours of a freezing December night taking a train just to see him. He feels unworthy, but most of all he feels the need to make Bokuto feel as warm as he does now, covered from head to toe in a mellow glow that makes his skin prickle. He hears him apologize, but Akaashi barely hears it, thoughts racing. He knows he's not good at being earnest or showing his emotions, but the penetrating need to tell Bokuto how he feels takes over his brain.

"Thank you," he says, looking into Bokuto's eyes to get his point across.

Bokuto seems stunned for a fraction of a second before smiling, leaning in to peck Akaashi's cheek. "Anything for you, 'Kashi."

Akaashi wants to speak again, to truly put words out into the air and bear the full weight of his heart, but his mouth stays shut, and he realizes he's frozen when Bokuto bends to pick up the cake and trophy.

"You're probably tired, I can't believe you were staying up this late." He detours into the kitchen to drop off the cake, wrapping an arm around Akaashi's waist to guide them to the bedroom. "I know it's your birthday and you call the shots but there's no way I'm letting you work for even another minute."

The trophy returns to the shelf and soon they're both snuggled under the covers, Akaashi's hands reaching out to wrap around Bokuto. When words fail, actions deliver the message for him, so he squeezes, tucking Bokuto's face into the crook of his neck. Bokuto laughs, airy, and presses warm lips against his clavicle. When Akaashi speaks his mouth brushes against Bokuto's hair.

"I could've broken your skull."

"I know. You’re kinda terrifying." He noses along Akaashi's neck, settling so that when he speaks again, softer, deep, the hairs there stand on end. "I'm happy to be here, though."

Akaashi wants to say, "I'm happy you're here, too," but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough, so he squeezes Bokuto harder in his arms, holding tight onto him until he hears his breath even out.

__________________

Olympic training doesn't start until after the holidays, and the mangaka Akaashi is currently working with is traveling to Okinawa until January, granting him a whole extra week of vacation. He leaves work early on Friday, a week after his birthday, prepared to find Bokuto lounging in front of the TV. Throughout the week he's gotten a stream of texts from him, complaining about how bored he is and begging Akaashi to get home quick. He turns on his phone, having silenced it during a meeting with a senior editor, to find a clump of text messages from Bokuto, the last of which announces he's meeting with Kuroo and Sawamura to play volleyball. Akaashi pockets his phone when his train arrives, thinking about how even when he's on break Bokuto is itching to get back on the court every chance he gets.

The train is empty enough for him to find a seat, and he slings his bag over his shoulder and onto his lap. The sky is clear, and the way the sun brings heat in through the window, along with the multitude of bodies, makes the interior of the train cart warm, almost cozy. If Akaashi were anyone else he'd probably nap, but he isn't, so he looks out the window instead.

He's not in the mood to have some sort of emotional epiphany in the middle of his commute, but his mind wanders. There hadn't really been a confession between the two of them. Akaashi knew he liked Bokuto in a special way ever since they started playing together when he was 15. By the time Bokuto graduated, Akaashi was permanently drawn into his gravity like a magnet, for the first time in his life feeling like the protagonist of his own story, simply from the brightness that the other boy radiated. When it was his turn to be captain, the Fukurodani gym suddenly felt too big, too quiet, and he heard the first years whisper praises about his dedication when he stayed behind out of habit after practice. They didn't know the full story, obviously.

Even after Akaashi opened up to Bokuto about wanting to spend their future together, the fear of losing him overpowering the fear of vulnerability or rejection, there was never an admission that they were an item. Bokuto compliments Akaashi like there's no tomorrow. They spend their afternoons together, they go out to eat together, they meet with Kuroo or Konoha or Hinata, together. They kiss, often. Akaashi likes the way Bokuto nuzzles up to him when they watch a movie on the couch, always so _warm_. He likes watching him enjoy something Akaashi cooked, likes the way he practically knows Bokuto's teammates just from hearing stories about them. He likes how Bokuto glows pink when Akaashi changes into one of his shirts, loose around the shoulders, and he likes the noises he makes under the covers when Akaashi touches him with steady hands, biting into his shoulder.

Akaashi knows he's in love with him. He has been for years, undeniably, but lately he feels the affection bloom across his chest and curl down into his stomach, deep into his being. He wants more than anything to tell him, to speak into existence all the intensity that burns within him whenever they're together. He owes him that much, at the very least.

His feet seem to have walked him off the train platform and onto the street in front of their apartment on their own, lost in thought. The concentration makes him miss the bright blue of Sawamura’s car parked outside, so he startles when he hears extra voices coming from the living room as he hangs up his coat. The two other ex-captains are standing around a shirtless and shoeless Bokuto sitting on the couch, and Akaashi has honestly run out of energy to be surprised at this point.

"Oh, he's home!" Bokuto says, spying him first. Kuroo and Sawamura turn, and he bows slightly at them before approaching.

"Ah, I believe _this_ belongs to you." Kuroo gestures at Bokuto, laying a hand on his bare shoulder. "I know it looks weird but we weren't feeling him up, I promise."

Only when Akaashi gets close enough does he notice the ice pack resting around Bokuto's ankle. His eyes fly up to meet Bokuto's, who looks off to the side, avoiding his gaze.

"What happened?"

"Sawamura tripped me."

The man in question scowls at Bokuto, back stick straight, arms crossed over his chest. "I absolutely did not. You tripped over my foot. I was literally standing still."

Bokuto conveniently ignores the clarification. "And then Kuroo punched me on the shoulder."

"Yeah, for being an idiot. That's why his shirt is off, by the way. He insisted that I left a bruise," Kuroo motions toward his chest, "when clearly I didn't."

Akaashi sits next to Bokuto, lifting the ice pack with gentle fingers to inspect the injury. Bokuto doesn't wince when he prods at it with two fingers, so he breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

"It's nothing big, it's probably not even sprained. It should be healed up in a day or two," Kuroo raises his eyebrows at a pouting Bokuto. "And you should be thanking me for agreeing not to tell Iwaizumi. If I called him right now he would give you a piece of his mind."

Bokuto scoffs, sulking. "Not like you two didn't already."

"You deserved it." 

Sawamura turns to Akaashi, looking genuinely apologetic. "Sorry you're the one that has to deal with him."

Kuroo laughs. "He'll live." He swings an arm over Sawamura's shoulder, shifting them both toward the door. "We'll be going now, anyway. Have fun you two. And go easy on him, Akaashi-kun."

Sawamura waves over his shoulder, and the door shuts behind them. Bokuto is giving him a look when he turns back to face him, looking mildly like he’s constipated.

"Don't be mad, 'Kashi," he says, voice warbled. Akaashi reaches to flip the ice pack over, pressing it down onto the swollen skin.

"I'm not mad, Bokuto-san." It's not hard for him to smile at Bokuto, despite everything. The situation is vaguely entertaining, and it would make him laugh if Bokuto's vitality wasn't on the line from possibly not being able to play, should the injury worsen. "You should be more careful, though. It could have been much worse, and I'm sure you don't want to miss out on any practice, much less an actual game."

Bokuto pales at the idea. "I know. It was an accident."

Akaashi rubs his thumb against Bokuto's knee consolingly. "I believe you."

"Sawamura didn’t really trip me. He wouldn't do that."

"I figured." Bokuto reclines his head on Akaashi's shoulder with an exhale.

"I’m glad it's you taking care of me and not them. Iwaizumi is nicer, but he would still scold me and tell the coach."

Akaashi pulls him back by the hair to meet his eyes, ignoring the soft 'ow' Bokuto lets out. He thinks back to the train ride, and stills the movement of his hand against Bokuto's knee, swallowing.

"I love you," he says, quiet, but simple, straightforward. He's still wearing his work clothes and the ice is leaking down onto the floor, yet the world doesn't crumble around him, surprisingly still spinning on its axis. Bokuto's expression is one of complete awe. The silence feels stifling in spite of the cold, so he finishes with an awkward, "Very much."

"What's going on? It doesn't hurt that much, you know?" Undeterred by how he's turning red all the way down to his chest, Bokuto blabbers, big eyes scanning Akaashi's face. "Why are you saying that all of a sudden?"

"I just had to tell you. I don’t think I ever have before." He's slowly becoming conscious of the warmth plaguing his own skin, and he drops his gaze for just a second before Bokuto lifts his chin up with a finger.

"I know you love me, it shows in everything you do. I love you, too, by the way." Akaashi recognizes it as true, but his heart rate picks up nonetheless at the unbridled adoration he sees on Bokuto's face. "So so much, Akaashi, you have no idea."

They kiss, Akaashi's fingers digging into the expanse of Bokuto's naked shoulders to steady himself. Bokuto's head ends up resting atop his chest when they pull apart after what feels like hours, and he looks up at Akaashi, chin digging into his ribs.

"Your heart is beating pretty fast, 'Kashi."

"I'm aware."

"Well, are you _aware_ of how much I really am in love with you?" Akaashi ignores the semi-mocking way he imitated him, feeling dazed, and Bokuto laughs after a couple of seconds. "It’s beating even faster just from that."

He lifts off of Akaashi with one arm, pulling him up to a sitting position by lacing their fingers together. He loosens Akaashi's tie with one finger, the other hand carding through his hair.

"Now that I'm allowed to say it I don't think I'm gonna stop, so you better start getting used to it," he drawls, pulling Akaashi in by yanking his tie.

Akaashi closes his eyes, chest warm on top of Bokuto's, beating twin heartbeats. He thinks for a second about how he's perfectly content with doing just that, getting used to it, and also learning to say it back.

**Author's Note:**

> happy (early) birthday akaashi! also take a shot every time i describe bokuto as warm
> 
> again, this is only slightly proofread so please excuse any mistakes. i had to write bokuto's sisters into this bc im obsessed with him being a little brother, hopefully i wrote them okay 
> 
> thank you so much for reading!


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